


"can deliver"

by Llama



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Bingo, Craigslist, Drag Queens, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-08
Updated: 2014-04-08
Packaged: 2018-01-17 17:11:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1395958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Llama/pseuds/Llama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Ninety five,” the guy says. “You won't find a better one for the price, and I'm not even charging you for gas!”</p><p>“You live <i>five blocks away</i>,” Derek starts, but Scott's girlfriend peers over the jeep door, says, “Is that Derek?” in Stiles's voice, and Derek watches sweaty guy's mouth move without catching a word, because Scott's girlfriend is Stiles? How does that even-- when did they--</p>
            </blockquote>





	"can deliver"

**Author's Note:**

  * For [verity](https://archiveofourown.org/users/verity/gifts).
  * Inspired by ["can host"](https://archiveofourown.org/works/665420) by [verity](https://archiveofourown.org/users/verity/pseuds/verity). 



> Remix of "can host" from Derek's point of view. 
> 
> I love "can host" so much, it was great fun to remix. Also, after the reveal I will finally be able to comment on that story and lots of others that I enjoyed while choosing it, so I can't wait :)

**credenza, VGC, 120x45, $100 o.n.o.**

The guy's sharply sweaty under his cheap cologne and stretching the definition of VGC to its limits, but Derek's got no patience for going through a million ads again and a buttload of kitchen crap gathering dust by the hour. 

“Eighty,” he says, watching as a familiar jeep pulls up and Scott tumbles out. “That scratch is going to have to be fixed.” Derek is never going to fix it, but sweaty guy doesn't need to know that. 

Scott's girlfriend looks too drunk for the glittery high heels that will ruin her arches, but Derek resists the urge to go over and growl at Scott until he takes her arm. He does at least open the door of the jeep for her, so Derek drags his attention away from the curve of her arm and back to sweaty guy.

“Ninety five,” the guy says. “You won't find a better one for the price, and I'm not even charging you for gas!”

“You live _five blocks away_ ,” Derek starts, but Scott's girlfriend peers over the jeep door, says, “Is that Derek?” in Stiles's voice, and Derek watches sweaty guy's mouth move without catching a word, because Scott's girlfriend is _Stiles_? How does that even-- when did they--

“That guy is so hot,” Stiles says then, and Derek feels a warm, prickly rush under his collar, followed by another one when he goes on with, “Of course, Derek gets all the--”

Right, the _other_ guy. 

“That's fine,” he says quickly, and stuffs the bundle of notes into sweaty guy's hand. 

It's only when he has the credenza installed and filled up that he realizes he gave the guy the whole hundred after all.

 

**marble coffee table, large, black/grey $199**

“Think I pulled something getting it loaded,” Phil-from-Beacon-Ridge says, leaning back and fiddling with his ratty woollen hat. Derek lifts the table onto the sidewalk, remembering just in time to make it look like an effort. “You might wanna get some help with that.”

“It's fine,” Derek says, as Scott barrels round the corner. Surprise, suspicion, then the usual careful blankness on his face, and Derek clenches his hands into fists.

“Friend?” Phil-from-Beacon-Ridge asks, raising an eyebrow, and Derek focuses on the distant music and clapping so he doesn't have to see Scott's reaction to that. The climax of _I Will Survive_ drifts out into the street, and that's what, eyelash-something glue in Scott's hand-- oh right, he knows now that Tuesday is Ladies Night at Jungle, and apparently it's a regular date for Scott and Stiles.

The doors open and close, the music pounding into his head, and Derek doesn't even _need_ a fucking coffee table, but he wants to feel normal again, and normal is an apartment and coffee tables and credenzas, and all that human crap. Maybe Isaac will come and live with him when he gets back from his grandmother's if Derek makes an effort.

"Hey, maybe he could help—"

" _No_ ," Derek says, because if he ignores Scott, maybe he won't notice how flustered Derek is. Not that he's flustered. He spends a fortune on leather jackets so that he _never_ looks anything close to flustered. "Look, we agreed on the side table too, can you still--"

“Oh, yeah.” Phil-from-Beacon-Ridge knows a guy who can help him with it. Derek... doesn't. 

_Stand By Your Man_ starts up to whoops and cheers, and huh, Derek's heard that booming out every time Stiles's jeep has been within a mile of him in the last two weeks. Even though he's pictured Stiles squeezed into that Jessica Rabbit dress every time – it was just the surprise, okay, it doesn't mean anything -- it's not until the singing starts up that he realizes Stiles is actually _performing_. His feet are moving towards the back entrance of the club before he knows what he's doing.

“Hey, dude, your table!” The guy calls after him, but when Derek heads back, it's not the table he looks at.

“I'll give you twenty dollars for the hat,” he says. Yeah, he's doing just _fine_ at normal.

 

**wrought iron candelabra, unique, $150**

Tonight's guy looks surprised when Derek just shoves the cash into his hand, but he doesn't complain. There's a gap behind the dumpster in the alley that makes for a good hiding place, so he wraps the candelabra in his jacket and pulls the hat out of his pocket again. 

He could just pay the entry fee, and go in through the front door of Jungle like everyone else. But he bumps into Scott and Stiles all the time as it is, and if they ask him what he's doing there-- he has no reasonable excuse. No excuse at all.

The show is fun, Stiles is amazing as 'Miss Manners', and even though he pauses to accept hugs and some wildly inappropriate kisses on his way back into the crowd, Scott still pulls Stiles into his lap for a tight squeeze before he retakes his seat for the bingo portion of the evening.

Scott's a good boyfriend, loving and supportive. Not for the first time, Derek wishes it was possible to dislike Scott. 

Or at least that Pop Icon Bingo made any sense at all.

 

**interlude**

“You know Scott's straight, right?” Isaac says, when he stops sounding confused about why Derek is calling him at 2am complaining about _bingo_.

“You didn't see them,” Derek says, and he knows how pitiful it sounds. He's no expert on relationships, but he knows love when it flaunts itself in front of him. “Scott's never going to accept me as his Alpha if he's with Stiles. Stiles hates me more than Scott does.” Because yeah, _that's_ what this is all about.

Isaac makes a choked sound that Derek suspects is laughter, but he follows it up with a coughing fit so it's hard to be sure. “Sorry,” Isaac says. “I think you should stop going to the club.”

“Yeah,” Derek says after a moment. “I should.”

Isaac sighs. “So, in bingo you're aiming to fill up lines on your card--”

 

**vintage dresser, well-loved, bargain $75**

It looks nothing like the picture, but it's a dresser, and Derek is sick of flaky sellers and no-shows. He's about to offer Jim $10 for it when Stiles shows up, all glitter and fuchsia satin with Scott in tow, and honestly, he's not too sure what happens next. It seems like the usual insults and pop culture laden exchanges he's used to until Scott's glaring at him over folded arms and Stiles is sweeping off with his dress hitched up in one hand calling out, “That's a date!” over his sparkly shoulder.

“Date?” he repeats, and Scott sighs.

“Don't fuck this up,” he says. “Stiles has a lot of friends here, and they're all scarier than you.”

 

**bedroom set and assorted other items Derek doesn't know the names of, IKEA, $1900**

Between Stiles's enthusiasm and the scary IKEA sales assistant (Derek can't work out what she is, but he's sure he caught a quick flash of scales), Derek ends up with roughly a room and a half furnished in one afternoon. 

“Don't think you're getting away with just one shopping trip,” Stiles tells him, while they're waiting to arrange a delivery date. “I've seen some of the junk you've been buying, this could take a while.”

“But you wanted to start with the bedroom,” Derek says. “Was there, um--”

“A reason for that?” Stiles shakes his head, but it's in despair, not denial. “You're hopeless, Derek, you know that?” But the quick press of his lips against Derek's takes the sting away.

“So,” Derek says, after the quick kiss turns into a lingering one behind a handily placed and sturdy bookcase, and Stiles is looking a little dazed. “There was a reason?”

“Miss Manners demands a certain standard of accommodation,” Stiles says with a sly grin, and as it turns out, the bookcase isn't nearly sturdy enough.

The assistant is back within seconds of the crash, and oh yeah, that's definitely a hint of claw he can see. 

“We'll take that too,” Derek says, because he likes his spine right where it is, thanks. 

 

**salad spinner, $10 entry fee (times two)**

Stiles is convinced they're luckier together after they shared the first card and won a salad spinner, so Derek's had Stiles in his lap ever since he came off stage. Aside from some unavoidable physical reaction to Stiles's sequinned ass pressing into him, he's not sure he's ever had more fun.

“Isn't this better than lurking at the back in a crappy disguise?” Stiles says, and he laughs when Derek looks surprised. “I can't believe you thought the hat would fool anyone.”

“I hate you,” Derek says, but Stiles just wriggles and raises an eyebrow.

Fortunately for Derek there's a quick blast of 'Like a Virgin' to distract him, and he reaches to put a counter over their Madonna square. 

“That's a full card now, right?” he says. “Did we win again?”

But Stiles just flicks the counter off again with one gold false nail. “Shh,” he says, and looking over, Derek can see their neighbor leave the square uncovered as well. See, this is what confused him when he watched the drag queens play the other week. Sometimes they filled up the squares called and sometimes they didn't, and he thought maybe they just didn't recognize the artist. There's nothing so simple as number calling here. But that was definitely Madonna, he's sure of that.

He follows Stiles's gaze to where Marilyn is holding up one finger behind Scott's back, and sees they aren't the only ones looking. Scott is intent on his card, counter ready in his fingers. 

Cher rumbles about turning back time, and Scott's arms shoot into the air. There's a cheer, and a minute later Scott waves his newly-claimed lawn gnome at them with a huge grin. Stiles gives Marilyn a thumbs up, and Derek shakes his head. 

“He deserves it,” Stiles says fondly, and Derek can't argue with that. 

Maybe next week they can win Isaac the animatronic parrot.


End file.
